The Dance of the Dragons
by Toria1181
Summary: The untold, forgotten, and lost history of the Targaryen Civil war by the ones who lived it.
1. Chapter 1

_**GREETINGS READERS! Welcome to a brand new ASOIAF fanfic and it's a drag back in time to the Dance of Dragons. Take a seat, grab your spectacles, and read away… Hope you enjoy and comment and tell me what you think. X**_

 _Alicent:_

"King Viserys grows weaker by the hour your Grace. Servants say he won't even sit on the Iron Throne. Perhaps it's best we send ravens to Dragonstone, prepare Princess Rhaenyra for what is to come."

Maester Orwyle seemed to enjoy bothering Alicent, she thought. Dusk had come and she was brought with coronation preparations for her _dear stepdaughter_. "As long as your King lives and breaths, he is our King. I assure your Grand Maester, only grief will be brought to Rhaenyra arriving with her court.

Alicent would jump from the cliffs of the Red Keep if she would invite them by choice. Rhaenyra's Strong bastards alone would disrupt the castle with blood and chaos. The only proof she needed was a look at her son Aemond and his broken face.

"Yes, but an heir is an heir. It would be best if we-" She shushed the old man into silence. The rise of her lips soothed his troubles, but truly she just wanted to end the discussion of her husband's choice of successor.

All would be simple if "The Realm's Delight" was just swept away with the tides. Through the years of Targaryen reign, a son came before a daughter. Alicent looked back at Aemma Arryn, weak and useless only to bring the stress of a daughter into the world.

She looked at herself, Viserys' Queen, and her duties done as wife, her sons were born. Still, all she can do is watch her son's birth rights be ripped away to a daughter and three of her bastards.

"My husband needs his rest, as do the rest of us. Another time when the King's is ready. If we are done here, seven blessing Grand Maester." Oh the joys of being a noble woman, she thought. Having to say all the perfect words, instead of how she truly felt.

Silver, for once Alicent had the looks of a Targaryen but in the wrong ways. When she loosened the tight braid wrapped around her scalp, more grey fell back to her shoulders. She hated looking at them, but she began to see more grey than brown.

When she looked at her reflection, she saw an old woman losing all she had built. She once remembered a girl who's unblemished skin and warm smile could swoon over any man. Now she saw her face begin to sag, her eyes wrinkled in it's corners, and hands wrinkled and veins popping out around her emerald rings.

Alicent almost jumped when she heard the tiny knock to enter her room. Quickly she pulled her hair back and pulled open the large door handles to greet them.

When she turned back, of course she saw two sets of feet come tumbling across the room. A chubby set of legs waddled across the room joining them. Behind them, Helaena followed them in with a smile across her plump face.

Of all her children, her daughter's sweetness was almost pure. Alicent had no idea where she had gotten it from. With Helaena, it was brought down to her children as well. She could see it made in their faces.

"They've come to say goodnight to their grandmother." Helaena greeted her. When they ran to meet her, Alicent stretched her arms to catch them. She caught ahold of Jaehaerys first and held his hands tightly.

"I see most of my lovely family has come, but what of my son? Where is Aegon?" She knew the answer already before Helaena spoke. She lifted Maelor up from the carpets letting him on her lap. He played with Alicent's rings twisting them as she waited for her daughter's answer.

"Somewhere. He comes when forced to, we don't need him now." Helaena spoke calmly, distracting herself with her children. Her daughter has come to be a dutiful wife, Alicent thought.

Alicent twirled through Jaehaera's long hair as her granddaughter sat silent, no smiles or giggles like her siblings. She wondered, but never spoke aloud of the simpleton signs she carried.

"We came to see father as well, See Criston stopped us at the door. He spoke of the Maesters coming to help him sleep. I suppose ships from Dragonstone will be arriving soon?" Her daughter was almost as clever as herself, Alicent thought. Clever she was, but the world only needed one of them.

She clasped the hands of her daughter, smiling at the thought. Her lips dropped down to a persistent look ushering them away. "The children are tired. You've spent well enough time, we all need our rest."

Helaena sighed putting Maelor on her hip as she tugged the twins' hands as they shut her door. She sighed pressing her fingers to her temple.

She laid back against the leathers of her chair, Alicent closed her eyes to stop her head from pounding. For just a moment, she forgot about them all.

Just a moment, she was free.

Alicent heart jumped from her chest when she heard the pounds against her door. Her neck was stiffened when she rose from her chair. Her eyes cringed seeing the sun rise through her balcony.

Barely dawn, she thought. She heard the metal clink against each other from behind her door. The loud pounding, the only thing she wondered was why the Kingsguard had awoken her for.

Quickly she grabbed hold of her lime robe tying it tightly. against her night gown when she greeted the men. When she opened her door, Her Criston Cole stood waiting for her.

"Forgive me your Grace, but this Servant brings news you must here." She sighed being awoken for this. The bells hadn't been touch and she already knew what they spoke of before they even finished.

Someone has died.

The scent had begun to seep into the room. They all expected her to weep and fall to the ground in morning. She had no need for that, what she needed was for time to stop.

Alicent looked down to the body of what was her husband, old and dead. His plump chest had sunk and what used to be pink skin had sagged to a cold grey. He looked peaceful and untouched, but his years til now were nothing than gasps, hacks, and aching joints.

The servant explained, sweating and stuttering how he had found him like that. They all spoke of a peaceful death while Alicent just stood silent. She just wanted to get out of the rotting stench of her husband's room.

"We must ring the bells. Send ravens to Dragonstone, we must send word of this to Princess Rhaenyra." Alicent raised her hand to hush them. She felt the thought in her mind race so fast, the thoughts in her mind planning so far ahead to all came out.

"Ser Criston, take him to the Black Cells. Not a word of this leaves the room." Soon enough her words became orders. She marched out of the room quickly, only hearing the pleads of the servant as he was dragged out.

She felt like running, her heart thumped so fast it might stop. Her father had rushed across the hall to meet her, but she found him. "Father, call a meeting of the Small Council. No one enters or leaves the Keep, I want no bells rung, no ravens sent. I don't even want anyone touching a bloody ink or parchment."

He nodded back following her and unable to understand. "Of course, but what must I say the meaning of this meeting?"

She stopped, turning back to her father. Alicent felt her mouth turn upwards into a grin.

"It's time we crown our new King."

Idiots, Alicent was surrounded in a room full of idiots. None of them could grasp the fact it was the time of a new again, and soon a new King.

"My Lords, we must all remember a son comes before a daughter! Rhaenyra's whole line is full of savage, Strong bastards. Let's not forget about her husband, The Rogue Prince! Why go down a line of trouble, when we have a _son_ and legitimate heirs who were meant for this."

Her father went on praising them. His rants weren't helping, they still wore simple looks on their faces. The Small Council wore their green cloaks, but she wondered where their loyalty was when they stood here waiting for it.

"Your Grace forgive me, but the matter is settled. King Viserys had all the lords of Westeros swear fealty to Princess Rhaenyra." Maester Orwyle objected meekly in his seat.

"Yes Grand Maester, you are right. I too remember some, I recall my husband given milk of the poppy during that time, his poor mind dazed and foggy as he made these decisions. Shall I continue?" She waited for a reply but he sat silent once again.

Suddenly, Ser Criston Cole pounded his chainmail arm against the Black table that shined red. "A son comes before a daughter. It's quite simple." Someone finally understood, she thought.

Another stood, Lord Lyman Beesbury with a puffy red face. Alicent could remember why he even sat on the Small Council. Surely there were better choices for master of coin than a man almost eighty years.

"I'll hear no more of this. You cannot bully us into naming Prince Aegon; a whoremonger, lazy, gluttonous man child. I will have no part of treason!"

When Lord Lywman stood, Alicent saw hands drag his neck back till it almost snapped. She could see the golden armor pull the dagger from his side, slicing his throat. His head hung by a thread along his neck.

Ser Criston stepped forward wiping the blood off the blade. He looked at the rest of the men, waiting for them to object. Alicent turned to see their faces sweating and looking down at their hands.

Alicent gave a sly smile, looking at the blood dripping across the table. "Oh Ser Criston, what would I do without you?"

When Alicent swiftly glided through the halls, when she drew closer to her son's room, she smelled a sweet perfume. Quickly, she pushed the doors open so loud the ground rumbled.

She walked in seeing her son lying on his bed with nothing but a bed sheet covering himself. Before he could speak or do anything Alicent had him hold his tongue so she could say her words.

"Whichever whore may be hiding, please leave. I have a matter to discuss with my son. Run back to your brothel now." It was silent for a moment, soon she heard footsteps creeping out from the curtains.

She stared up at the ceiling as the girl collected her clothes. Alicent could see the fine silk across her dress and the scent of sweet perfumes. Her look of embarrassment she had running out the room showed she had some dignity to lose.

"Must you whore out your sister's, also your wife's Ladies?" She sighed staring at the door as Aegon grab a robe. When she finally turned her oldest son laid back on his feather bed of silk sheets.

"We did our duty, I have an heir, Helaena's happy with her little whelps. What must I do to have something pleasant in mine? Now mother, what have I done to be gifted with your intrusion?"

Alicent rolled her eyes. How could her son be like this, she thought. Everything she had done for her children, they deny it all. Little did they know what was coming for them.

It's time my son." She knocked the cup of wine out of his hand to grab his attention. He scuffed and his eyes circled the room looking for something to entertain him as she tried to speak.

"Time for what, just say it already." She grabbed hold of his cheeks almost breaks skin with her skins. She almost didn't want to stop seeing his selfish little face just wasting and whoring away. Alicent finally took her breath releasing his face.

"Your birth rite."

By the time the returned to his chambers, her husband was now a rotting corpse. The curtains were closed tightly, not letting anyone know of it. The sun had risen and it's rad had made the room sweltering. She just wanted to be out of there and get on with it.

Aegon looked down at Viserys quiet, doing nothing but watching as if he'll rise from the dead. She waited patiently for him, beside Ser Criston. The Lord a Commander stood still as well, she wondered how he could do nothing but that all day.

Finally he turned, not looking at either of them just striding away. "What do you want me for? Go fetch my sister, she's the one that wants the bloody chair." Alicent bit her tongue when she her the phrase "sister."

"Do not tell me I raised a naive son such as yourself. Loyal you may, but your _half_ sister will return it with taking your head." He chuckled at her, Aegon was blinded by blood to see what Rhaenyra would truly do to them all.

He sighed shaking his head. The thought of a kinslaying was ridiculous, little did her son know the depth of this rivalry. Aegon poured himself another cup of wine, but was stopped by golden armor pulling his attention.

"Forgive me my Prince, but you have always been and will be a threat to Princess Rhaenyra as long as you live. You are the true born son of a King with heirs to go on. Yours and you children's death will be wanted from Rhaenyra to keep her claim to the Iron Throne."

Her son finally stopped his drinking rubbing his temples and sighing. Ser Criston's words seem to persuade him, more than Alicent's gestures had. Of course she would never tell him that.

Aegon turned to her with a pouty look on his face. "What do I have to do?" Alicent sighed with relief. Without knowing, her face went numb. She couldn't control what her muscles were doing, just give in to them. When she turned to the mirror, her reflection showed a grinning, uncontrollable smile across her face.

Alicent once heard a fool's story of the names of their courts as "The Blacks and the Greens." Apparently it had started from a feast that began from the color of Alicent and her step daughter's gowns. It had already gone long enough, she might as well give them the show they wanted.

One of her ladies had pulled from her wardrobe a silk emerald that had a golden glow when the sun touched it. Along with it, came a black cloak with gold lace sewn around the edges. On the back was her son's personal sigil, a golden three headed dragon. Lastly and least, she had to grace herself with a black laced veil to show the world she was a "widow."

She wanted to show them all, her house stood together. Alicent planned by doing that with many shades of green. She waited on the steps to glimpse of the dark cloud of Vhagar coming down from the sky.

Servants who walked with her back away as beast landed on the pavements outside the Red Keep. She saw the blue sapphire sparkling in the sun. Her son's hair flowed to his shoulders when he slid off Vhagar.

While Alicent greeted Aemond, he gave a small raise of his lips. That was all they could ever get out of him. Aemond may not have been a cheerful soul, but he was fierce and twice as bold as his brothers. She found to love that in her son most.

"The bells are ringing. Is my brother King or must we bow to the whore on Dragonstone?" She didn't even get a greeting, Aemond's faced had a look of rage pulsing rough him. Alicent supposed he had been waiting long for this, all she had to do was look at the sapphire where his eye was supposed to be and know it.

"We will my son, but we must wait. Wait for their first move and we decide how this shall go. First we start with showing them the true _King_." He sighed and cursed under his breath as he turned back to servants.

"Well are you just going to stand there?!" Aemon screamed at the feebly minded servants as he threw his metal helmet at them to prepare him for the Dragonpit. Alicent snapped her fingers when they brought out a forest green cloak sewn with gold thread.

Soon enough, she saw the Blue Queen lower down to the grounds. Alicent could see the black velvet wrapped around Daeron for mourning his father. She could hear Aemond scuff at the sight of his youngest brother.

When Tessarion landed, he jumped to the ground. Daeron's face her with puffy, red eyes, when he faced her. Her youngest son was the gentle child of her litter. She remembered him reading with maesters and loved by the court, but he was as daring as his brothers.

Once she gathers her two sons, they waited outside for their future King and Queen. The carriages were draped in black and a gold dragon on the back. All of it had happened overnite, the banners, colors, even the new shade of dragon.

The doors creaked when Kingsguard came escorting the pair. Helaena's wide set dress flowed as she nervously walked down the steps. She tugged on her fingers when she stood to wait for the carriage. Alicent placed her palm on her daughter's hand, she felt her shaking hands stop as they wheels stopped to pick them up.

The horses trotted through Fleabottom and it was filled with silence. They heard the bells, a King has died and they looked through the carriages to see who would rule them now. Those who caught a look inside eyes widened, they clearly didn't see Rhaenyra. Just green.

Alicent barely knew the name of the streets they crossed through, but they all knew her. Though she did recall one, the Street of Silk. She remembered hearing Viserys sending guards for his brother, the Lord of Fleabottom himself and dragging him back to the Red Keep.

The people matched the name, she thought. Alicent could see girls in sheer, silk dresses as men gazed at them. Brothels filled the alleys and every house down the streets, practically begging a man with full pockets to walk through their doors.

One house, or brothel Alicent might say, she caught eyes with their guests and workers. She could see through the windows wide open to get rid of the smell of scent in the pillow house. All eyes were on them.

Gold cloaks filled the room, they laughed, drank, with whores on their laps. Their smiles were crushed like a sinking ship when they caught eyes with the carriage. They stood, grasping their hips, probably craving Alicent and her children's blood on their blades.

If she had gotten her way, Alicent would have had all of them hung along the walls of the Red Keep. The officers knew their place, and who to bow to. The common guards though held their loyalty tightly to their former captain, her brother by marriage Daemon Targaryen himself.

A Pale stranger with silver hair caught eyes with Alicent. She had a solemn, frozen face, her eyes didn't stare away, she wanted Alicent to watch her. The girl pulled from a pocket in her white gown acting as if she was a septa, a rolled up piece of paper with a milky white worm for a seal.

Another gold cloak came from behind her, he slipped the paper into his hands and when the crowds began to fill the cracks of the street, they were both gone. Alicent could have called for her guards to grab them both, but there was no reason. Let Rhaenyra find out, for all of Westeros will know the true heir soon enough.

The crowd was waiting at the Dragonpit for them, their eyes creeping inside of the carriage for a look at who would rule them all. Aemond stepped out first, he grasped his longsword at his side looking at the people as he held out his hand for Alicent.

Soon came Daeron, then Helaena and the children, finally Aegon came to greet them. She could tell by their looks some were confused, waiting for Rhaenyra herself, and others had no shock in them at all.

The bells rung throughout the city, they knew what it meant. Now they all just stood and waited for someone to make the first move. Alicent stepped in front, stiffened her shoulders and strided along the steps.

"You all hear the bells! Your King has passed, now another may sit the thrown. A son! Aegon, Second of his name, first born son of King Viserys himself. My son, the true heir to the Seven Kingdoms. Your King."

Aegon stepped forward an kneeled before Ser Criston. The Lord Commander gently lifted the dark circlet of Valyrian steel. Like the conquerer before him, the rubies shined along the band when it sat on her son's head.

"I now Proclaim Aegon of the House Targaryen, Second of his name, King of the Andals and the First Men, Protector of the Seven Kingdoms." Ser Criston's voice echoed off the walls of the Dragonpit.

When Aegon rose, they all kneeled to him. Even Alicent herself, her son was King. Ser Criston stood for a moment. "Long may he reign!"

They all followed his words, one after another. Even the dragons cried from behind in the Dragonpits.

"LONG MAY HE REIGN!"


	2. Chapter 2

**I HAVE RETURNED, with a new chapter! Hoped you liked the last one, more to come. Give me a comment and tell me what you think. X**

Lucerys:

He focused on the rain, tapping along the stained glass windows. He wanted to be brave and strong like the rest in his family, with dragons and stories about Luke that could last a thousand years. He tried, but he sat alone, wiping away his tears.

His mother's screams echoed through the halls except in the one spot he found. His mother, the princess Rhaenyra collapsed with blood staining her velvet gown at the dinner table with Luke and his family doing nothing but watch.

It all went to so much panic that Lucerys couldn't tell what had happened, his mother had six children including the one in her belly. She wasn't frail, she was strong, but she still screamed in pain and fell like any other.

Before, while they sat talking, Ser Steffon, his grandfather's kingsguard came running with soaked clothes kneeling before his mother. Luke had been at the end watching them speak, he couldn't hear only seeing the looks across their faces.

Luke looked back to the windows watching the waves crash against the rocks, he could see his own reflection in the blue glass. He saw mud brown hair, and a round pug nose. They called him and his brothers Strongs and perhaps he was.

His parents had been born with the silver hair as the rest of his family, yet there was nothing to compare to Luke. He heard sniggers and whispers, even his mother's brother Aemond always tried to remind him of how they were three "Strong boys."

He liked the Seadragon Tower, all his life he had. It was shaped into a grey stoned dragon, looking out across the water. It made him think of Luke and his brothers. For they were Velaryons, but with blood of the dragon.

Luke would run and climb the twisted and narrow stairs to the tower, and he would always win their games, when his brothers chased after him and couldn't reach the top where one could climb up to the highest balcony and see all of Dragonstone.

He found much peace above the balconies, no one to find him or speak much when he wanted to be alone. That was until he heard little footsteps walk through the hall.

He leaned back against the rails to see who was coming. Half the candles were blown out because no servants had thought to light them again this high, but he caught a glimpse. Her slightly annoying voice echoed out to him.

"Lucerys, please come down now." She said politely, but demanding. That was always Rhaena, he thought. He slid down off the window sill, steadying his feet onto the stair case below. He walked down the grey steps to greet his cousin, or betrothed as his mother had mentioned before.

"What is it Rhaena?" He waited for her answer, wanting to be left alone. She rolled her eyes at him with her hands full of eggs each as big as her head.

"Why are you crying?" She lifted her hand to point out to the his red eyes. Luke swatted her hand away from his face.

"I was not." He said proudly. He could hear her sighs as she saw through his lie. Luke could see her start to bend down and sit below next to him. The eggs began to slip through her fingers and she tossed them into Luke's arms for help.

"Are you worried for your mother?" Rhaena started to pester him with more questions. Luke had four brothers, and no sisters until his mother had wed his own uncle Daemon and he had brought his own daughters along. Now, Luke had Rhaena and Baela to play the part.

"I am not- Why do you think.. What are you doing with so many eggs?!" He changed the subject away from his mother. She could tell what he was doing, but Rhaena let it go and babbled away.

"Syrax laid another clutch. I got to have more, and when they hatch I can meet all of them and see which will be mine." She smiled happily looking down at all of her eggs. Luke couldn't deny she had a sort of prettiness to her, but no one needed to know he thought that.

He could see what her eagerness was for with the eggs. Her sister's had hatched in the cradle and spent everyday with her own, while Rhaena was left with her sickly hatchling that died hours after it had been born. Now, she had more eggs, and more chances to get a dragon of her own.

When she went on talking from then, but Luke had stopped listening. He kept thinking of his mother, how he himself is a coward hiding while she could be dying. He caught Rhaena staring at him, with a worried look to her.

"Everywhere in the world, mothers have babes. Sometimes they arrive early, but we have a Maester here. She's probably fine." She shrugged her shoulders, with a calmed look as she ran her fingers through the scales and swirls of her eggs.

"What happened to your mother?" He asked meekly. Luke couldn't even remember Laena Velaryon, he assumed she looked like Rhaena. He still couldn't put a face to the name.

Rhaena wouldn't look up at him when she spoke, she just kept her head down looking back at her eggs. "She died... in the birthing bed with my brother." She said simply.

He would've made a bigger reaction to why she mentioned his mother would be okay, when she lost her own the same way, but he saw a change in her. Her bubbly self simmered, and smile had died down.

"Do you remember her?" He asked trying to fix what he had started. She shrugged slightly. Luke could see her head rise up thinking. Rhaena looked back ahead of them at the wall.

"I remember Vhagar landing and her running to greet us, and her hair... It was like mine, but longer and curls that I would put my fingers through." He saw her smile light up at the wall almost imaging her mother standing in front of them.

"I can't remember her much, but I remember when they told me she died. I don't know why I would, we were so young but I remember servants telling us our mother was gone." She turned her head back done to distract herself.

"What about your father?" Luke questioned where he had been in her story. He had forgotten he was talking about her mother, he regretted asking but she gave an answer back.

"He left, very soon. I remember seeing Caraxes fly out to the water and they didn't come back. He was gone for so long I had forgotten him, until your mother brought us down to greet some tall man in a gold cloak and she said "Your father's return, he's missed you two terribly. Go and give him hugs."

Luke saw Rhaena undistracted focused clearly on her words turning to him. "He left us, why would a father do that to his children?" She asked him truthfully. He didn't answer, just squeezing her hand tightly until he felt their palms sweat as they were together.

"Daemon was probably sad." He Admitted. "She was his wife, and she was gone." She turned back to him with mad eyes at his answer.

"Yes, she was his wife." Rhaena admitted, her violet eyes turned to a blazing fury. "But she was my mother, and I didn't leave, I don't care if I was little I wanted to leave."

"But I still forgive my father, because he is himself and I could never hate him." She blurted out. Luke thought to question the truth of her words, but he wouldn't be the one to do it.

"I hope your mother lives." Rhaena spoke a such a soft and serene voice it could have you forget what she had spoke of before. "No one deserves to lose one." She bit her lower small rosy lip, when she spoke quietly.

Luke didn't notice he still held her hand during this time. He didn't plan on letting go, until he heard the doors slam open in the hall to get their attention.

"LUCERYS…. RHAENA!" They both jumped up when they heard him yell out to them, and they both recalled his voice. His feet dragged across the floor, his boots scraped against the floor and the footsteps grew closer and his gold cloak gleamed in the light.

The loud and almost terror of his voice had softened to a small chuckle in a matter of seconds. Luke could hear Daemon's pace into a cool, and soft glide across the floor. He stopped in front of them, leaning his back against the wall.

"What are you doing?" His uncle asked so calming like a different person with a smile. He never saw reason people saw his uncle as dangerous, but Luke could see the little touch of fear he brought to others.

"Showing Lucerys Syrax's eggs." Rhaena sounded like a meek child when she spoke. If his eyes were closed, he probably couldn't even tell it was her voice. Daemon smiled warmly reaching to an egg out of Rhaena's hands.

"This one will be yours, I can tell. When it hatches, you'll fly higher and faster than even Lucerys. And when you two wed, you can will show your own children how to be dragonriders." Luke felt his cheeks redden when he heard him. Daemon had managed to bring fear, serenity, and embarrassment to Luke all in one with his voice.

He could see the smirk that grew on Daemon's face watching the awkward tension he had brought on between them. "Bring those back to your chambers now, Rhaena. Rhaenyra is resting, she'll need your help though. We've all been ordered to the Stone Drum tower."

He jumped up hearing his mother was alive. Rhaena had already started walking back when Luke followed to join her until he felt a pull back at his shoulder. "Not you, you don't want to see that. You'll thank me when you have your own children with Rhaena."

Luke scuffed at his uncle always pushing his betrothal on them. Daemon could see the look on his face from hearing him. "Do I irritate you with that? Sorry." Daemon said briefly.

Still, he continued on. "But you two _will_ marry. It's been decided for some time." Daemon reminded him.

"I want to see my mother. Where is she, why can't I see her now?" Luke stopped his uncle from saying more. He had started pacing through the hall, as Daemon laid back against the wall with his hands crossed just staring at him.

"Why won't you just answer me?" Luke didn't know how loud he had been yelling to him until his words echoed through the room. Daemon sighed standing back on his own two feet, pulling Luke by the shoulders in front of him.

"Your mother is resting, she is well as can be... But your _sister,_ has died." He didn't know what he meant until Lucerys could see the stiffened face harden when mentioning of a sister.

"Sometimes, when children are born, they don't wake.. But your mother was awake, and she still lost a child. So she will not see anyone now." Luke's cheeks reddened seeing the mess he had made with his words.

"You were it's- _her_ " Luke corrected himself, he had a sister. "She was your daughter, and she died.. I'm sorry." Daemon patted his shoulder no grief on his face.

"You didn't know, this is something I don't weep for. Vengeance is something to crave when it comes to these matters." Daemon spoke with wrath in his voice, but Luke was quite confused.

"You said she never woke, would you seek your vengeance from the Gods for this? Whose fault would it be?" Luke asked. He was still Daemon, he thought. He would inflict his revenge on a Maester for not doing something right.

"Oh no, my boy, not the Gods. Someone wanted to hurt your mother, they hurt her so, that the child in her belly had fought out to seek the same vengeance." He could see rage in Daemon's eyes, the violet shade had turned dark like a ship sinking in the storm.

Still, Luke was confused. "I don't understand.. Who-" Daemon stopped him from finishing.

"Your grandfather, my brother has died.. And those traitorous whores who Viserys had called family; the bitch Alicent, the one eye bastard Aemond, and Aegon..." He heard the sigh and grit of his uncle's teeth while he spoke.

Daemon had let go of the tight grip on Luke's shoulders to catch his breath calmly. He could see his face change from a madman to a merciful and noble knight. "Aegon has named himself King, which was your mother's, you and your brothers, _our_ birthrite _._ Do you understand now Lucerys, what they did destroyed your mother that she was sent to the birthing bed too soon."

He heard his words, but they had not sunk in for quite long. No one had mentioned his grandfather dying. Luke didn't understand why family would take away what was truly theirs. "Are you certain, how do you know it's true?"

He saw the pause in Daemon's anger, how he gripped the small paper in his hand and pursued his lips before speaking. "An.. Old friend. A friend like the rest of the people in King's Landing, who knew that your mother, princess Rhaenyra was the true heir."

Luke stared off to the water, he remembered they stood in the Sea Dragon tower. He had the blood of the dragon, they may have saw Luke as just a boy of four and ten, but he would be much more than that.

"What will happen now?" He asked, knowing before Daemon had answered.

His uncle wore the small grin when he said it. "They stole it, now we take it back; with fire and blood."

Luke had stopped in the Hall, gasping the walls from all the flights of stairs to the stop floor of the Stone Drum. When he reached the doors to chamber, he ran like a boy excited for what was to come. Until, he felt a pull back.

"No, none of _that._ You're almost a man, this will be practice for you someday." Daemon had caught up with him again on their way to the council meetings. He didn't know how, when his uncle had not been the young knight he was long before Luke could remember.

He had him calm himself and look as presentable as he could be with the black leathers and fixing the silver seahorse broach his Lord father Laenor had once worn, when he had been young and living.

"This is a council meeting. If you are truly my blood nephew, then you will suffer the painful bore of waiting for the real fights to come." Luke could see Daemon stiffen his back grasping the sword to his side, the valyrian steel blade gave him the drive to be the rogue that his uncle ever was.

When they walked through the doors of his chamber, Luke stepped into a room full of eyes on them. "We've been waiting for quite some time, Daemon. Must you pass your timing onto Lucerys?" Corlys, his grandfather from his father's side had his arms crossed with annoyance at his uncle's stride of confidence.

But Luke wasn't listening. "Mother." He called out. His mother had greeted him with the small smile across her sorrow face. She cupped his face with a kind hand as she stared off with red, puffy eyes.

Luke turned back to see his eldest brother Jacaerys pull him back to stand beside him and his brothers. He could see Daemon step forward to take his place laying his hand on his Lady mother's own while she sat.

He could see the quiver in her lips as she began to speak. "She was my only daughter, and they killed her.. They stole my crown, and murdered my daughter, and they shall answer for it." Luke looked at the sadness across her as Daemon with some form of comfort with squeezing her hand tighter.

"Daemon, how can we even know if this is true.. Your.. Confidant's letters seem to have us confused." His grandmother Rhaenys spoke with a soothing touch to the situation.

Luke could see his mother roll her eyes with fury tossing her cup against the wall with thick, milky white syrup dripping to the ground. "You mean his _whore."_ She spat.

"She has no title of _whore_ or foe, only loyal." His mother ripped her hand away from his uncle. Daemon sighed and pulled the letter to his face as he looked it over. Luke thought back to this friend his uncle had mentioned before.

"She's one of the few I trust utterly, and smarter than most. You'd know it you looked deeper into this letter. " He read the letter aloud.

" _My dear mother, misery is cast upon King's Landing with this sweltering heat. Though the ceremony for our dear King Aegon as we stood outside the Dragonpit to watch him crowned in sight of the seven, after the passing of King Visery brought joy we haven't had in many moons.. Mayhaps the Gods will bring us Black clouds of rain to drown out the song of the four dragons in the dragonpit. I hope you return with a letter soon. As always your loving daughter, Mysaria."_

Luke didn't understand most of it, like the rest of them. Daemon looked around at them waving the paper. "If Aegon's men had gotten ahold of this, they would see no treason in writing about their _dear_ King. Now I ask, do you any of you know what she meant?" He asked them, wanting to know who had the mind to see through what seemed to be a letter to family.

"The dragons.." Jace muttered next to him. "She said four, she's telling you the numbers, their strength." His brother had excitement in his voice as he spoke. Jace always was the one to get it right, for they all saw him as the eldest and heir to the Iron Throne. He had to be perfect, Luke thought.

Daemon chuckled as he nodded his head to his older brother. "Hard to believe he's not my son.. Yes Jacaerys, they have four dragons." Daemon seemed to become bored of doing all the speaking, Luke noticed he seemed to only speak to defend his old friend as he called her.

Daemon laid back on his chair with his feet stretched onto the painted table. He noticed his grandfather had rolled his eyes, and pushed them off the map of the seven, when his grandmother Rhaenys had stepped forward. "But we have more." She pointed out to Dragonstone.

"Ours are larger, and your boys Rhaenyra, their dragons are larger enough to carry them now. Dragons thrive on the island, they grow bigger as long as Dragonstone stands." They called Rhaenys the Queen who never was in King's Landing, for she had been a choice for the throne between his own grandfather Viserys long ago. Now looking at her, his grandmother spoke like a true queen.

Rhaenys spoke more of the dragons who had no riders, they had been ones who lost riders, or the ones no one had been able to tame. Like his father Laenor's dragon Seasmoke, the dragon has found his own lair to stay in for the rest of his days.

Luke was always told to leave them be. If he would not bother them, then they would do the same his mother always told him. "Find more riders, and that is how we shall win this war."

Each of the Lords in the room had bickered with one another over how his mother would actually rule. Some had mentioned burning King's Landing to ash, but even Daemon had disagreed.

"Your forget Aegon has dragons, and we do still have only five riders. It will be five against four with Vhagar as one of the four." Luke had almost forgotten Vhagar until his uncle reminded them, the dragon was the last of Aegon the Conquerer and his sister's dragons. Vhagar's size and age would have the fight of three dragons.

Daemon continued to silence the room. "Dragons kill dragons, and I will not throw away ours against a usurper unless we have no other choice. These beasts have better ways to be of use." Then there was the smile, Luke thought. The smile that only Daemon Targaryen could wear, with his troublesome eyes.

His mother stopped Daemon with a pull of her arm. "Let us fight this war with words, not battles just yet." Luke could hear the Maester scribbling away on his papers at the end of the table.

"Tyrells will be no help, they're of the Reach just as Alicent and her father are. Tyland Lannister is on Aegon's small council, Casterly Rock will not join us." Daemon stretched his arm across the table tossing aside the lion and flower pieces on map.

Corlys stepped up beside Daemon. "It won't matter, Tyrell and Lannister have no power on sea. They'll be defenseless against my own fleet." Luke's grandfather, Corlys Velaryon or the Seasnake as he was called had the largest fleet in Westeros, and there he laid his ships at his mother's feet.

"I would never force you to join my cause Corlys, never risk all you had built for your own family. I may not be able to repay you in this if we truly go to war." His mother had worried eyes as she spoke truthfully to his grandfather.

"My Lady, you were my son's wife, my daughter by marriage. You gave me three grandsons, no matter what vicious rumors people may say, they are my blood. For I see my son Laenor in them everyday." He could see a look of pride as Corlys stared back at Jace, Luke, and Joffrey.

"Though Laenor is gone, and you seem to have found _another_ choice of husband." Luke chuckled as Corlys looked back at Daemon with annoyance, while his stepfather or uncle as he was both, had a sinister smile waving back happily at the Seasnake.

"No matter the man, you are still my family. I don't ask for you to repay me, for I remember Viserys having all the Lords of Westeros swear fealty to you as his heir. And I mean to keep my promises." Corlys bowed before her as did the rest of them in the council chambers.

"Then the matter is settled." He heard them calling for servants. One of them handed his grandfather's crown, the golden band with seven simple gems in the center into Daemon's hands as he stood before Luke's mother.

"Rhaenyra Targaryen, first of your name, I crown you Queen of the Andals and the First Men, Protector of the Seven Kingdoms." When he finished, Daemon had first to kneel before her. For when he fell, they all did.

"Long may you reign." He spoke in a smooth settling voice that had brought all in the room to a stop. He could see the bite of his mother's lip as her swollen face lit up with pride.

"LONG MAY SHE REIGN!"


	3. Chapter 3

**Hiya readers, I'm BACK! Enjoy and tell me what you think! X**

Lucerys:

He stood outside of the doors with his head pressed against the wood. Once his mother was crowned, there was no celebration. No time for anything, soon all the Lords who had fell to his mother's feet were quickly escorted out of the small council meetings, even Luke.

Luke was fourteen, but they saw him as a boy still. That title meant he was stuck with his younger brothers. "We could go to the stables, Arrax and Tyraxes are big enough now, we could race them." Joffrey went on with plans to ease his boredom.

"Stormcloud looks big enough too, we should all race to Driftmark." Aegon agreed beside him, lying on the ground. Luke didn't answer either of them, he tried to block them out to try and listen in on the meetings.

"We could do that as well. If you chose to wake up and hatch one day!" Viserys kept arguing with himself, Luke didn't bother to ask why. His youngest brother was nine, he just assumed he was imaging things.

"Who are you talking to?" Aegon asked. They went on talking on, loudly Luke added. Instead of shutting their mouths, Viserys told them he was talking to his egg. He had been holding it since he could walk, waiting for his own egg to hatch.

Aegon chuckled at Viserys, causing them to bicker loud enough to block out whatever was happening in the chambers. Luke shoved them apart to stop their simple arguing. He could hear Joffrey's laughter chiming in at them.

Instead of giving them reason to talk more, he ignored them. "Why do you care what they're talking about?" Joff asked him. He sighed and gave up trying to hear through the doors. Instead Luke would pace through the hall, waiting.

"I was trying to hear what they were all saying, since they won't let me in." He grumbled kicking one boot with the other. Luke might now have cared as much if Jace hadn't been allowed in. His brother was barely a year older, but it didn't matter to them.

"Why would you want to be in there? We're still children, we should be childish before we're old and they send us off to war to fight." Luke shrugged, not answering Viserys who was off in his own place with his egg.

Luke sighed, he was tired of waiting. He could hear the dragons singing in the stables, it was Arrax. He could always tell when it was him.

Perhaps he would ride with Arrax again, it had been some time. His thoughts turned back to the door that had kept Luke out, until the split of the wooden blockade slid open to greet them.

"What are you doing?" Jace had a confused look at his brothers sprawled out on the floor. "Never mind.. Come Luke we need you." He felt the pull of his arm to join him back in the Painted Table chambers.

Luke stopped and turned back to his brother. "They want me in there?" He asked. Jace chuckled at him. "They were weary to say yes, but I convinced them. Mother says I'm Prince of Dragonstone now, so it won't matter what the other Lords call us. You're my brother."

The room was half empty, all the small Lords and bannermen had quickly left and only his family had stayed. "Lucerys! You've finally joined us in this _grand_ party, come my boy sit as we all can''t wait for what Corlys has to say!" Daemon greeted him with a smile to see the look on his grandfather's face of disgust.

"Once in you life, could you take something serious?" Corlys pushed aside Daemon's feet off the painted table, pushing little ship figures. "Put a sword in my hand and tell me where to go. I don't need to wait here while you play with your toys." His uncle had a look of mischief.

"If you can't keep quiet, then leave." His mother ordered, her glares stared back at him with fire. Her eyes were red almost burning as if she hadn't slept in weeks. Her belly was still swollen as she laid in her chair gripping the arms till her nails had dug into the wood.

Daemon had a worried look staring at his wife, Luke was the only one to see his face change as he saw her. Still, he was silent. "Perhaps we fight this war with words first, if her grace permits it." He spoke in an uneasy voice of annoyance at them, but they all agreed.

They all spoke of bannermen and houses so small Luke had never heard of them. Until Rhaenys stood sliding the dragon figure farther south on the map. "Storm's End will stand with us." He had almost forgotten his grandmother was a Baratheon.

"Lord Boremund was one of my closest friends before he passed. His son will side with us if he knows loyalty." Luke wondered to himself if it were him in the present Lord Baratheon, whether he would side with friends, or fear threats from King's Landing.

"House Arryn as well, the Maid of the Vale, Jeyne Arryn would never turn you away. Rhaenyra is part Arryn from her mother's side after all." Daemon spoke up, with Jace chuckling beside him.

"Doesn't she hate you?" His brother tried badly to hide his laughter to their uncle. "All of the Vale can't stand Daemon." Corlys joined in on the chuckles as he spoke. Luke didn't get the joke, neither did Daemon from what he could tell with the rolling of his eyes.

"Why does she hate him?" Luke asked. Jace grew closer to him in a whisper. "When Daemon was married to his first wife, he used to call her his bronze—"

"Yes Jacaerys, I am not loved well in the Vale, but the Arryn woman would never turn your mother away. She is the first born child and a woman as well, siding with Aegon would be taking away her own claim to the Eyrie." Daemon's words were like swords, the laughter stopped when they heard his logic.

His mother chimed in, breaking her silence. "Even with the Velaryon fleet, the Greyjoys have the same strength at the sea. They haven't chosen a side in this." Her eyes had no emotion to them, just violet stones.

"They call the Greyjoy boy the Red Kraken, he loves blood, battle. We won't need him, _yet._ If Aegon stays in his place, then this will hopefully only be a war of ravens." Luke was surprised by Daemon, he would never turn down a fight.

"We have friends in the Riverlands." He told them. "Thought none would show their colors so early, we need a place to gather. Large enough to hold a host, and strong enough to hold against whatever forces the usurper can against us."

"There." His grandfather pointed. "Harrenhal." Corlys told them. Daemon agreed for once, that had been the first they had gotten along all day.

And so they decided, his uncle would take Harrenhal. Daemon promised it as a gift to Luke's mother while she stayed on Dragonstone to regain her strength. He commanded the Maester to keep scribbling away with four messages to Riverrrun, the Eyrie, Pyke, and Storm's End.

Jace stepped forward, Luke joined him. "We should be the one to deliver these messages." His brother roared, but their mother struck back with rejection faster than they could think.

His brother tried to explain, but their Queen mother wouldn't listen. Luke fell to one knee beside her seat, he stood at the same height as she sat. He cupped her hand softly assuring her. "Dragons will win this war faster than ravens, mother. We're men, close enough to be them we should bear these messages."

She bit her lip. "They would be envoys, Rhaenyra. I had caused a rebellion or five by the time I was Jace's age." Daemon agreed with them, causing her mother to bite back with venom in her voice. "And how many times were you almost killed, before my father had gotten you out of your troubles?"

He shrugged his shoulders with a sigh. "Yes there were risks, but we're Targaryens. When men see Caraxes fly over, they go silent and pray for mercy from their Gods. Do you not remember each of your three boys' eggs hatch and out came the same as our own?"

She pressed her hand to her head as they begged and bickered. "I do remember their eggs hatching. Because it was not long ago that they did, they can barely fly with them on their backs." But his mother was wrong, Luke thought. Arrax could hold him, just enough but he was still a dragon rider.

"Our uncles calls us Strongs, and claim we are bastards, but when the Lords see us on dragonback they will know that for a lie. Only _Targaryens_ ride dragons." Of course Jace's regal words had convinced his mother, Luke thought.

Even Joffrey had spoken of joining them, but their mother forbade him. "You two will go as messengers, you will take part in no fighting." They promised, but she wouldn't have it. Not until she had the seven pointed star was brought out, and they laid their hands swearing not to fight.

She was weary, but their mother had consented. Jace would be sent to the Eyrie, White Harbor, and then Winterfell. Luke would only go to Storm's End. They were still only a year apart, but Luke was younger and a shorter journey would be "safer" as they told him.

Their mother had a true coronation the next day. Luke saw some of it before they began to leave. Hundreds gathered around to see her, the reigning Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen Queen of the Andals and the First Men they called her.

As his stepfather, being husband to his mother, Daemon claimed the title Protector of the Realm. He had a pleased look to himself finally getting a title of his own, he always went on about deserving.

And Jace, his brother could not have childhood nicknames now, for he stood beside their mother with a hardened look on his face. She named him Jacaerys Velaryon, Prince of Dragonstone, and heir to the Iron Throne.

His brother wore a disguise around the people, he was meant to be a hero, a tall, perfect knight that all the girls would swoon over. He was not a Jacaerys, his name was Jace, Luke thought wanting to correct them.

Jace was his brother, not a crowned Prince. He was a tall, giggling oaf with a lazy smile and a mop of brown muddy hair. Girls did love him though, even though he could barely talk to them with his cheeks always blushing when near one. Except Baela, for Jace _loved_ that girl, Luke remembered.

He only thought of her for a moment and she had already appeared beside him on the beach. "Tried to leave without saying goodbye, now did we?" Baela asked and answered for him. She hooked their arms together as they watched the ceremony.

Luke stared at her for a moment, she may have been Rhaena's twin, but he saw nothing of the sort. It didn't matter that they shared the same silver hair and lilac eyes like their whole family had, except Luke and his brothers, they were completely different.

Baela wore her hair half up with dramatic braids wrapped tightly and twisted around her head, with the other half laying still and untouched down her back to show off the long silver locks. She almost dressed like a boy to Luke with her black leather riding pants to match her blood red bodice and three headed dragon emblem on it.

Unlike her sister, Rhaena's hair was worn down and she wore her simple gowns in light, happy colors. It was simple, but pure and sweet; like her. Baela was fire, blazing but quick to burn someone, but Rhaena was sunlight, warm with a certain glow to her heart.

Luke jumped out of his thoughts to join his conversation with Baela. "Why aren't you down with the rest of them. Rhaena's down there." He pointed down across to her sister smiling sincerely watching the crowning of his mother.

"I was down there, but I left with my father. He went off to the stables where Caraxes was, he's left for Harrenhal. He told me I'm to stay here and run Dragonstone while your mother heals and you two are away." She had a pleased look hearing her own words.

Baela always had the hungry look in her eyes for some power. That had a flicker of greed in them, but she was quite bad about being hard and ferocious like Daemon. She wanted so hard to be her father's daughter, but she was still soft and kind; barely and mostly to Jace, but there was some warmth in her.

The silence grew awkward between the two of them, so Luke decided to have broken it. "Did you say farewell to Jace?" He asked trying to keep a straight face, but he could feel the laughter fall out of his mouth.

She punched him, hard across the side of his arm. He felt the throbbing afterwards all from her small and dainty fists, but Baela fought harder than most of Luke's brothers. "Just as much as you did to Rhaena." She said causing Luke to smile.

She pull his arm as they walked along the shore to the stables. "Come now little Luke, we have a long way to Storm's End." He stopped her at the _we_ in his step sister's words.

"A joke." She promised. "I would never put you through that horror of you and I traveling together." She was right though, Luke thought. Daemon always told him he was lucky that he was betrothed to Rhaena, and Jace to Baela.

"She's a dragon." Daemon said. "You should never try to tame them or you'll burn, let Jace deal with Baela's fire."

They walked along sand, beside the gaping black boulders that had been all over Dragonstone. The Maester said it was frozen fire, but it was cold and sparkly, nothing like it. Luke felt the sand squish on his boots on the beach while Baela was high above him climbing the rocks, one step over the other like a balance board.

When they reached the cliffs, Luke felt the fresh air blow through his face. The grass that had been left uncut had grown to his knees and brushed his boots. Baela had ran to the edge like a little girl again, waiting.

Luke jumped when the flap of Moondancer's wings had cracked right next to his ears. He felt the dragon's warm air breathing on his neck. He turned to see her, the pale green scales on her slender frame with her horns and wings a bright pearl like the moon.

Smoke was fuming from Moondancer's nose as she watched Luke, until Baela pushed him aside to greet her dragon. She practically jumped on Moondancer with a hug. He could see the settle in its eyes when seeing her rider.

Luke reached out his hand to have Moondancer's trust. Baela swatted his hand away like a bug. "Don't touch her!" She proclaimed. "She doesn't like... _Men_." He could tell Baela's dragon had saw their bickering, she wore a snarl in her teeth.

He would not fear them, he was blood of the dragon. They could try to eat him whole, but his last day wouldn't be today, he thought. It was the beginning of much more.

Even when Moondancers breath heated against him, he was frozen. Only the wind had knocked him over slightly when Arrax swooped down to the ground, screeching viciously when Moondancer had approached him.

Luke patted him gently, feeling the warm scales against his skin. His back ached from the saddle he carried on his back. He pulled the leathers down and tossed them onto Arrax.

When he tightened the final buckles, Luke stood there waiting for Jace. They decided that they would fly off together, but Luke and Baela waited as the grey clouds began to spread. It smelled like rain, he thought. He couldn't describe the scent, but he could tell it was coming.

Luke shrugged, as they stood longer and longer. "They're probably holding him back for some useless reason as he's the _heir_." Baela scuffed, growing impatient waiting for him. His brother and Baela had been betrothed since they were four and two, and had been smitten with each since forever.

He sighed shrugging his shoulders, and Luke climbed onto Arrax's back. He tightened the straps across his legs, wherever Arrax moved, he would move now. He pulled the reins out to the water as they went off.

"I'll see Jace when I return, tell my mother Storm's End will be hers." Luke put on a slight show acting like the conqueror himself as they left. He saw the roll of Baela's eyes before she walked off, and Luke flew.

The rain poured hard against his back over the water. It was cold and harsh, Luke's hands stung gripping the reins as Arrax stumbled from the Storm. He was right about the rain before, but that word had been a joke to the disaster that they flew in.

The sky shook with thunder and struck like a slap against a face when the lightning hit. He could tell Arrax struggled, but he was swift and fast, they would make it, he thought. Luke rubbed the water out of his eyes to see the rocks below them. When they flew closer, there was no sea below them, just ground.

Arrax has leapt down to the cliff, Luke had practically slid out of his saddle from the rain greasing it like oil. He felt the ground shake from the rumble of thunder most like it, guards stopped in almost terror from the sound.

The weather wouldn't matter to him, instead Luke clutched his mother's letter in his palms tightly, to keep it from getting wet. Guards escorted him inside, he could hear Arrax quail as he walked through the doors.

He would be back soon, he wanted to tell him. But Luke just followed to the end of the hall with large wooden doors with the stag carved into the wall.

Luke was shaking the rain out of his hair, when he heard the laugh. The sick laugh he had hated when they visited his grandfather in King's Landing. And Aemond hated him as well with the sapphire in his eye to prove it.

"Look at this sad creature, my Lord." His half uncle said standing beside Lord Baratheon with his small household watching. "Little Luke Strong." Aemond hissed like a viper spewing venom. "You're wet, bastard. Is it raining or did you piss yourself in fear?"

Luke would ignore him. Instead he only clutched the letter, pressing his fingernails in his hands till he could feel skin break. He was Lucerys Velaryon, and he would address his true name to the Baratheons only.

"Lord Borros, I have brought you a message from my mother, the queen." Aemond scuffed at Luke's words. "The whore of Dragonstone he means." Luke wanted to finish what he had started with when they were little, but he wouldn't let one eyed Aemond soil his manners.

He tried to tempt him, truly. Aemond strode forward, trying to snatch the letter from Luke's hands. He shoved him away, hard. Luke could see the anger in his eyes, but he didn't matter to him.

Before Aemond could come back at him, the guards pushed them away, Luke handed the letter to a knight who had brought it to where the Lord of Storm's End sat.

As the maester read it to him, Luke mentioned where his loyalties stood, for how his grandmother Rhaenys shared his blood. Aemond just stared at him, gripping the sword at his hip.

Luke noticed the scowl on the Lord's face as he stroked his beard. "And if I do as your mother bids, which one of my daughters will you marry, boy?" He pointed his hands to the four girls stand beside him. "Pick one." He said.

He didn't answer quickly, all Luke could do was blush. "My Lord, I am not free to marry. I am betrothed to my cousin Rhaena." He said briefly, as Aemond stood against the wall watching him with a sinister grin across his face.

"I thought so as much." Lord Borros grumbled. Then his eyes turned back to Luke and pointed to the door. "Go home, pup, and tell the bitch your mother that the Lord of Storm's End is not a dog that she can whistle up at need to set against her foes."

Luke said nothing, he only nodded and bowed as he turned away. He would not beg or command, he only thought of how he would tell his mother how he failed her. And then Aemond called him by that name again..

"Hold Strong." He called out pulling out his sword. Luke would not stand down to him. But he promised his mother to not fight. "I will not fight you. I came here as an envoy, not a knight."

Aemond laughed at him. "You came here as a craven and a traitor." Aemond announced. Guards pulled them away again before Luke spoke one last time to him.

People saw Aemond as fierce and cruel, but Luke still remembered where his scars hid inside him; For it was Luke who did it. He never planned on it, they were boys. Aemond challenged him and his brothers, and Luke remembered standing over him pulling out the blade he had gotten for his nameday, and throwing the last draw into his eye.

"Strong or not, you're not worth the fight Aemond. You're nothing to me, one eye or both. You're worthless." Luke gasped his breath as he tried to hide his smile from him as they walked away. He heard the fuming roar as Aemond tried to pull away from the guards.

"I will have your life, Strong!" He roared. Lord Borros stopped him in his breath. "Not here," he grumbled. "He came an envoy. I want no blood shed beneath my roof." Luke caught one last glimpse of Aemond's rage as he walked through the doors of the round hall.

His grandfather had mentioned his tales at sea, the main reason for Corlys being called the Seasnake because of his ships. He once told Luke and his brothers about the eye of the storm. He never understood it, where the eye was supposed to be when a storm couldn't even have a face.

But now he knew it.

Thunder rolled across the castle, the rain fell in blinding sheets, and from time to time great bolts of blue-white lightning lit the world as bright as day. Arrax still managed to stay aloft, he struggled but he was still strong to carry Luke's weight.

The wind was pushing them back, but they could make it. Luke could soon see Storm's End turn into a shadow. She looked like a black cloud when they flew over them, Luke could only truly catch a glimpse of Vhagar when she came charging down on them.

He tried to show Arrax the way out, he truly did. His heart was racing so fast, the rain pouring down he could barely see. Luke could only hear their screams and felt the push and clawing between them.

Vhagar's flames almost blinded him, the wind knocking him back off Arrax's back. Luke was dangling by the straps on his legs as they fought. He heard Arrax's final cry, and Luke could see through the rain clearly, their two dragons locked together, and could only hear a tear of skin.

He felt like they were flying, but this was different. Luke couldn't think it was all happening at once. As they dropped, he choked on the rush of air. The smell of seawater coming closer and closer, Luke grasped Arrax as they went down and he could only feel the thick, warm tingling feeling.

He could only catch one last glimpse, where Arrax's neck had been left with nothing but blood leaking from where his head had been; before they it all went crashing down.

The water hit like stone, Luke could feel his bones ache, the water brushing him away. The waves pushed him back and forth on and on, seawater pouring down his throat. He pulled himself up for air, but his legs wouldn't work.

They dragged him under, like stones tied to his feet. That's when he knew it was Arrax's body pulling him down. Luke dove under to look for the straps of the saddle on his legs, he felt the wet leather when he tried to untie the knots.

He bursted up again for air, before he could even see it, the waves threw him across the bay. The water tossed and dragged him until the rocks pulled him to a stop. Luke felt one, just one thud to his head, like the crack of an egg.

He felt no pain, from that moment it all went by so slow. The tide pushing him back, Arrax's lifeless body pulling, his head just trickling, he couldn't tell whether it was blood or just more water. Luke could see one thing beneath the bay, red.

He fluttered his eyes for a moment, but somehow his eyes were through with him. His arms as well, not muscle in his body felt like moving. And so he stopped, Luke stopped everything, and let the waves carry him.

The Rogue Prince:

He watched the flames drink away the letter. How the paper crinkled up black, and charred as the ink dried up. He would not stand to get a new sheet, he was Protector of the Realm, he was Daemon Taragryen; let the servants do it for him.

The maester scurried over like a grey rat, he grew to hate them over the years. They were too curious, he couldn't trust any of them, they acted as if they were Gods when none he had ever met could save ones he was close to.

He did not know what he was supposed to do. Perhaps it was the grief kicking in, he never knew how to respond to such matters.

For Aegon, his youngest brother who had died of a chill when they were boys, Daemon believed that was when he began fighting, when his grandfather the Old King Jaehaerys put Dark Sister in his hands. Laena, she was different than others. His bronze bitch was a cold creature of a first wife, but Laena Velaryon was quite the opposite.

She had been the mother of his daughters, and died birthing a stillborn son. Daemon wouldn't call it _grief_ when she died. For he went on Caraxes to Fleabottom on a drunken rampage on the Street of Silk. He barely remembered any of that time, only a bucket of his own making and many cups of wine surrounding him, with Misery stroking the top of his head.

By the time his older brother had died not a fortnight before, Daemon only shrugged. He and Viserys had been close once, it didn't last though. His brother took away what had been a breath of fresh air for him long ago, and his heart hardened then after for his brother.

But this, this time was quite different, Daemon thought. The usurpers who had been family, barely he recalled, had taken one of his one.

"Vhagar had been spotted at Storm's End, we can confirm that it was Aemond who killed Prince Lucerys." His loyal riverlords stood beside him as he lied back against the chairs. They must've thought he was mad when Daemon began to laugh.

Lord Blackwood kneeled beside him with a stern look. "Say the word, and we will march on the Stormlands, let the country burn until justice is served. Send for the rest of the riders on Dragonstone, and we will burn King's Landing with the usurpers in their Red Keep."

He shook his head quickly to the rivermen, he finally decided to put words to his clean sheet. " _An eye for an eye, a son for a son. Lucerys shall be avenged."_ The words seemed fitting for what they had done to Daemon.

"They killed my son." He told them even though the whole room had known of this. "He was not mine by blood, but I raised that boy and his brothers. We all know what Laenor was, a pillow biter through and through, he never had an interest in being a father to Rhaenyra's boys."

Luke was on the edge of boyhood, he hadn't even been a man. His mother would never see his face again, Rhaenyra would be broken to pieces by now, he thought. "They killed my son." He said it again.

"Can any of you imagine the pain they've brought to my house?" They gave a shrug of their shoulders. "I want them to feel the same, of what they did. All of them, I don't care if Aemond drew the blow, Aegon, Alicent, they all started this by stealing my wife's crown."

Daemon knew where he would bring this form of pain, but he could not do it from where he stood. When he was young, his brother put him in charge of commanding a weak group of men to keep him out of the way, but he had quite enjoyed his time in the City Watch.

He was almost fifty, and was not a twenty year old Commander of the Gold Cloaks anymore. Daemon had known the rat pits and festered in the shadows and knew every corner of the city. But that was so very long ago.

While he had been raised up and flew off to Dragonstone, the same people he was once closest to still roamed the city. Unlike Daemon, they still lived among the lowest parts of Fleabottom. High or low, even on the green council he had allies all throughout King's Landing.

He stood up striding along the ruined hall of Harrenhal. "I don't mean to burn the city to the ground. My mind may change later of course, but not now." He told them.

"We want vengeance, I want the whole green court to be full of tears and cry in agony when I'm done with them." He gave a smirk just thinking of their pain. "What I need is too large beyond any of your lords control, and only one person can bring this to me."

"So I must go find her.." Daemon handed the note to the maester, demanding the fastest raven to carry it to Dragonstone. To let Rhaenyra know Aegon's pain will be as much as she is feeling now.

As he turned back to his confused riverlords, a thought snapped into his head. "Show me to your stables. I will need a horse, I haven't ridden one in years." He had never needed a one since Caraxes could hold him on his back.

"It would be a faster journey above dragonback, my Lord. Let them know the true prince is coming." They insisted. Daemon shook his head as he straightend his gold cloak.

If Daemon would be returning to the capitol city, he would need to just be another commoner with a hood over his head. "Why, that's quite the point. They will not know I'm coming." He told them with a sinister grin for what was to come.


	4. Chapter 4

**SURPRISE! It's ME, with a new chapter. Very excited for this one, always obsessed with this character from the fake histories, but there's barely anything about her! Now that FIRE AND BLOOD IS OUT, we got more info on this mystery woman. (still wishing it was Winds of Winter, but what can you do : / ) For now I hope you enjoy this fanfic! X**

Lady Misery:

"When it comes to a choice, wine. We always need wine." She scurried around the room like a rat outside in the streets. The music blasted with drums, horns, pipes so loud she couldn't tell if the girl was still listening.

"If you're going to stay, you'll need to catch up with me. I'm a busy woman and I don't have time to explain every little detail." She nodded to Mysaria as she spoke, so young and pretty. She forgot that she was once like that.

She stopped sprinting to turn back to the dark skinned girl. "My apologies, I seem to have forgotten your name." She had a sweet look to her with sandalwood eyes, hopefully she wasn't as sweet as she looked, the kind ones were usually useless and weak.

"Chataya." She said, loudly in a thick accent. Her voice was good, she wouldn't be quite or shy beneath the music. "Pretty, keep it in the family. A strong name like that should live on until the end of time." Mysaria told her.

"Your accent, you're not from here are you?" She asked. Chataya shook her head and continued. "The Summer Isles." She was honest as well, Mysaria noticed. She had already known where the girl was from, her sources had whispered in her ear before she had gotten off the dock of her ship.

"A wonderful place, much better than this city. I do not know why you would come here." She joked. "You see, most of these highborns in Westeros call us whores. What do they think of our profession in the Summer Isles?"

"It's very well respected there, many practice it." At least the girl wasn't ashamed of their ways. Mysaria seemed to see the girl as not useless.

"When did you leave Lys?" Chataya asked her. She turned back with a raise of her eyebrow. "I have an ear for accents."

"Quite some time ago. Most in here cannot tell the difference between a Pentoshi and Lyseni tongue; but it appears you do have an ear. You're smart, we do not find many like you here." Mysaria sighed. "It appears you've had me forget what I was first talking about."

"Wine." The girl reminded her. She snapped her fingers in remembering. Mysaria crouched beneath the counters, pushing her silver hair behind her ears to pull out a random jug and poured more drinks for the people in the common room.

"You see, the more wine, more fools, and more money." They walked to a table with a drunk man passed out with his head on the table. Mysaria pulled a pouch out of his pocket full of silver stags and tossed it to Chataya.

"Gold Cloaks drink for free here." She pointed out. "They are men of the City Watch, they protect us commoners while the royals feast on their thousand course meals and sleep on gold coins. They also make good guards, to keep out the rats who hide in people's clothing."

"We can try and keep them out, but one can always manage to sneak in. Always be aware of who is in your pillow house, if you ever own one." She reminded her as they began to sprint across the room to her girls. Marei, she had such a pretty face with high cheek bones. Now she had blood running from her nose and a torn lip.

Lanna, she had been loyal to Mysaria since the earliest of days. "It was a green." She pointed out his golden dragon pin with Hightower friends laughing beside him.

"And they call us lowest of the low. Men, all of them are useless." She reminded her girls this frequently. She pulled a rag out of a drawn and held it to Marei's bloody face. "Aegon, the first king. Not the green boy who sits on the chair now. Aegon the conquerer had it right, he had two wives because he knew a woman's worth."

She had her lower her head to let the rest of the blood drip out and set Marei up in her own chair with wine to dull her pain for the rest of the night. Instead, Mysaria went to the back room where she kept her own supplies.

She may not have sounded like a Lyseni anymore, but she had friends everywhere. And once so often, they visited with a very special brew just for the special types of people like the green man who enjoys hitting women.

Mysaria heard it had started to grow popular, the Tears of Lys. Clear like water and no taste, just an ache in the belly does the trick to eat away the insides. Cassella was a pretty blonde with green flecks in her eyes, she knew how to put on gentle smile that every man in Mysaria's pillow house wanted to wed.

She tugged on Cass' elbow before leaving the back room, "Green bastards in the hall, tell them a free casket for their bravery of serving King Aegon or whatever nonsense you can make up."

Cassella's cat eyes lit up with a sly smile as she walked away in a joyous smile. "Lady Misery at her finest." She joked. Mysaria rolled her eyes and shoved her out the room. Now she would deal with her own drunken litter of idiots.

She walked across the common room to the counters with the high chairs she had won in a bet against the House of Kisses. They all laughed and sang merrily when Mysaria had walked over in her own way of a greeting.

She pulled their last jug of wine away from them and their songs turned into whines like small children. Their gold cloaks made them feel higher than the rest of them, so Mysaria would do her duty to remind them where they came from.

"Mysaria!" Rickard yelled. The now commander of his own infantry for men in the Eastern Barracks had sat at the same table for all the years she had been there. He possibly couldn't get out of the chair anymore from all the wine and food he splurged on.

When they were both young and lively, he had been a large one who knew how to carry a sword, not highborn just low enough to know how to defend himself, and Daemon could see his worth.

He greeted her with a jump and tried to lift her up from the ground. She pushed his red wheezing face back into the chair. "Never do that again." She said strictly shaking her skirts from his wine stench.

"This one doesn't like me anymore." He told the younger ones of the watch. They had been young enough that they didn't wear a cloak yet. "Not when you drink and forget why I let you sit here." She responded.

Mysaria had someone bring out stale Lamprey pie a baker and known visitor on the Street of Silk had made a deal for less coin on his choice of girls, and more food for the common room gatherings. She pushed it in front of them so that perhaps the pie would soak up the ale and wine.

"You see lads, my foreign friend Mysaria and I used to be the best of friends. We all were, weren't we?" He asked the rest of the Gold Cloaks who nodded with laughter as they saw her annoyance. She crossed her arms, but still listened to whatever nonsense he was spilling.

"But once Daemon left us, so did she. For the Queen had lost her King, and she had turned into quite the stern mood after that. And so Lady Misery was born.." She rolled her eyes at his words. The misery part wasn't even true, she thought. Her rivals called her that since the beginning of time.

"Oh I am quite nice, but not when you all drink and forget why none of you ever pay. You're supposed to keep the peace, and you did nothing for one of my girls." She points out across to Marei's bloody welts across her face. She saw Rickard's fuming looks with the wine mixing in his veins.

"Missy!" He mumbled, not even getting Marei's name right. "She's one of my favorites!" He tried to rise and demanded to find the green who looked to be half way done with the wine she had sent over. He still drank from it, but Mysaria could see him grasping his side in slight pain.

"I already took care of our Green friend. You are welcome here when you actually help with these problems. You're not the ones running this brothel, so pick up the work." She said harshly and began to walk off again.

"Don't you mean Daemon's brothel? He's the one who gave it to you." She stopped her feet and turned back when she heard his voice. They called him Ser Luthor Largent now, but Mysaria and him had known each other as long as the rest of them.

"The mute one finally speaks." She chimed in. He had spoken barely the whole night and now decided to bite back at her.

Rickard had broken the awkward tension between them. "HA!" His laughter was irritating. "I had almost forgotten you twos brief adventures in the sheets." They both shrugged their shoulders giving up on their play of words from the odd silence between them.

It ended quickly, she and Luthor, Mysaria thanked whatever Gods had existed in the world for that. It had been long ago, but somehow someone always managed to keep it known to people. "I don't recall any of what you're saying." Mysaria said simply.

Luthor laughed at her as he stood beside her. "Does Lady Misery miss me?" He asked them. She rolled her eyes wanting to gag at the thought of him trying to court her. "Please don't remind me." She practically begged.

His laughter was small, she noticed he still stared at her when Mysaria sat beside Lanna with them to break her boredom. "Must you always bring that up Rickard?" He asked. "If we're being honest, we ended fast enough." She raised her cup to that historical fact.

"Because I was afraid of what Daemon would do if he ever found out I had stolen Misery from him!" The laughter echoed across the room again as he even managed to get a smile out of her. Then it went back to bothersome for Mysaria when they always tied her to Daemon.

It had been almost twenty years since her time with Daemon. He had left and ran off with his brides and niece, same thing she added. Because of him, no man wouldn't go near her again for they feared what Daemon would do.

Luthor patted her hands. "A joke." He assured her, with Mysaria rolling her eyes at them. She found them quite irksome most of their times together, but she still sat amongst them all this time. Their faces aged and some were gone, but the gold cloaks still remained the same.

"They say the Princess had her own coronation." One added. "Or Queen Rhaenyra as she's called now. With Daemon as Protector of the Realm." Mysaria chuckled at their words, how they still worshipped him after all the many years.

Luthor of course had his own words for her. "Now we value you, Misery. But don't be all high and mighty because you're not dancing on mens laps any longer. Daemon raised you up, the same as any of us, even gave you this place to have. You should be grateful."

She restrained herself from tossing the cup of wine into his face. "I've never forgotten, and don't try to remind me. I don't care what Daemon did because that was years ago and Daemon only protects himself. You all still praise him like a God when he left you all to rot in this city."

They knew she was right, but none of them would say it. Instead they went on to continue the rumors of which King and Queen wanted to sit on the iron chair. "Aegon declared them traitors, and all those who followed them. A wonderful time to be a Black now." Rickard chuckled as he cut another piece of lamprey pie.

"Your Green friend has got stumbling out the doors now, Misery." Willem pointed out. It was fast, she thought. Mysaria shrugged her shoulders and cleared the empty cups from the table. When she started walk back to her seat, a voice stopped her.

"Misery, the White Worm has done it again." He rambled. She turned back across the room to catch a glance at the man. Tall with large arms, black hair and blue eyes, but he still looked young enough with the face of a babe.

"I know you?" She asked barely paying attention seeing how he could barely walk and giggled like a child. He bowed down to her feet and greeted her with a lazy smile.

"Robert Storm, m'lady. We have not met, but oh I have heard your name all throughout the city. The true queen of the city." He knew how to charm, she thought from the silly smile he put on her face.

"Daemon's queen." She heard Rickard whisper beside her, she slapped him off the head before he could finish his words. "Shoo now boy. Let the grown ones talk now." They told him, but she shushed them quick enough.

"No, I like this one. Pull up a chair, Robert Storm. Tell us how a bastard from the Stormlands ended up in this place." She told him, with Lanna sitting beside her smiling to get him to agree. The drunk ones were where she got all her best whispers from.

Mysaria could see Rickard with one of the little gold cloaks in training whispering in his own ear. His displeased look gave her some story to it. "Stupid fools can't handle this! Here Storm boy, take my seat, someone at the barracks demanding entry." He sighed sobering up quickly.

She followed beside him as he took his last sip of wine. "Why are you going? Have they run out of useful men and sent you in their place?" Mysaria asked wondering what he could do with the problem.

"He asked for my name only." He told her hooking the clasps back on his shoulders. "Probably some simpleton claiming to be one of my bastards." Rickard sighed.

"Who would want to be claimed by you?" Baelon Waters chimed in from the back with another one of her girls on his lap. He was young with a stupid smile always on his face, same silver hair and looks as Mysaria. Perhaps he had been Daemon's bastard from the Targaryen name, she thought.

Rickard pushed them off with a wave of his hand. "Probably some boy his mother sent to say he's mine. One of Misery's girls most likely, all you women are mad for me." He announce as she rolled her lilac eyes at him.

"A boy?" Mysaria asked. If she were them, she would have wanted to know where the mother was leaving her son at the City Watch barracks.

Rickard shrugged his shoulders on her question. "These imbeciles didn't even get a good look at his face. Just some commoner with a hood over his head, they told me. Asked for the guard on watch and he said me. Even though I hadn't done that in years." He scuffed pushing the Storm boy in his seat.

"Save me a cup for when I deal with whoever the lad is." Rolling up his sleeves, red face started up in his cheeks when he walked off. Soon enough they had brushed the news off and poured another.

"I thought of joining the Gold Cloaks once." Robert was still with them. Luthor chuckled at his words, but still raised a cup to him. "Go for it, boy. If you ever do, pick a color first before any of it. Green or Black, your choice. You'll find true friends with a color."

He had a puzzled look to Luthor. "I thought it was just Gold you had to wear." He pointed to the cloak. They all looked at each other, then him again.

"Gold-" Luthor tried to go on, but he sighed as if in pain. He laid his hand to his forehead and sipped his drink. He tapped her hands pointing to the boy.

"Please explain to this child, Mysaria." Luthor asked of her. It was the first he had called her by her name the whole night. So she continued on.

"I won't go into detail about much now, but some tourney long before you were probably born. The Princess wore a black dress and her step mother Queen had a green. Their courts split in two because of each sides bickering over who sits the throne." She had already grown bored of this conversation.

"How can you tell which color they are." He asked. Mysaria would have continued on when Baelon jumped in. "Isn't it obvious? Look around! This city survives on the black party. Every man, woman, and babe bleeds black. It's the highborns who you need to wonder about."

Luthor clashed his glass when he heard him. "He speaks the truth. Never share your thoughts with any of those in court. They change from black to green like a highborn maiden changes her gown every day. Even our own, try and find one officer of the Gold Cloaks that isn't off telling the Queen mother Alicent what we speak of."

Mysaria tiled her head up with laughter listening to him. "Says the Command of the City Watch." He stared back at her shaking his head.

"Exactly. I would know, why do you think I spend my days sitting in this fine establishment, away from all the officers. Misery and her girls always keep my secrets." Luthor patted her thigh as he spoke. Mysaria rolled her eyes at him, throwing Lanna onto his lap.

"I'm not selling myself any longer, Luthor. I'm a madam now. Lanna is much more to your taste." She smiled and stood pulling her ivory skirt to keep it from dragging across the floor. Before he could give back wit, Baelon whispered into his ear and he nodded in agreement.

"Your men are leaving—Why?" She demanded he tell her. Luthor waved her hands away as she questioned him. More men clasped their cloaks onto their backs, the gold trailed to the ground.

Baelon had a staggering walk as he darted off smiling. "Quit your wailing mother Misery, just the old Shepherd riling the crowds in Cobbler's square again. We'll be back with new whispers for our favorite." He bowed farewell tripping over his feet leaving the room.

"Remind me, which one is the shepherd?" She asked her table. Luthor stretched his arms hearing the cracks of his back clash through the chainmail. He poured himself another before continuing.

"Just some one handed mad man yelling nonsense in the streets. Always yammering on about how the city's doomed and corrupted. Blames the dragons, and their riders." He told her. Mysaria sighed as she sipped looking around her half empty hall.

The storm boy snapped his fingers at them. "I remember that crazy old fuck! Saw him my first night in King's Landing. They say he had been one of the Faith Militant, I thought he was just a crazed bum by the looks of him and that stump on his arm."

"You said he blames the dragons?" Mysaria asked. Luthor nodded as he continued. "Says they're demons from hell. Then he goes on ranting how their riders are whipped and tethered by a leash, something about the crown does the dragons biddings."

"Don't forget the stories!" Robert reminded them, shaking Luthor's chainmail in the process. Largent raised his hand to strike back as the storm boy whimpered like a pup. "What stories would that be?" She asked.

Luthor wiped the wine off his chin before continuing. "Titles, he gives us citizens. Royal dragons burning cities to the ground, great big trees with gold leaves toppling over the common folk. Oh and the whores, all the whores.." He had a lazy grin to his face as he spoke.

She tilted her head up to the ceiling, her chandeliers had grown dust circling the rims. Perhaps she would have the Storm boy do it, let him scramble up the staircase she thought. That would be quite the show.

The wine had given her a silliness to her, she giggled away at the thought of the golden trees in the Shepherd's stories. "You are a tree." She said to her long legged companion Largent.

He sighed with an ugly smile across his face. "I'll have you know I was being kind, and wasn't going to tell you about your part in the mad man's tale." The laughter wore off as she pulled her silver waves of locks to the side like a nervous tick.

"You must be the Pale Stranger." Robert pointed to her fair skin. "Says you sold your soul to the dragons and bathe in the blood of your babes in the cradle. The peddler of flesh as they call her." Her face was unfazed listening back to the nonsense.

Luthor smacked him off the back side of his head. "Do you ever think before you speak, boy?" He swung to strike again, but she gripped his wrist by her nails to place it back on his cup.

"More stories. If I'm going to be stuck at this table, I'll need both of you with your teeth intact." Mysaria always had a craving for other people's secrets. The good ones that she could hold over anyone for her own bidding.

"You never told me, Robert Storm. How did a bastard from the Stormlands end up in my common room?" Mysaria asked, or the peddler of whores as she was. He gave a shrug of his shoulders and another sip of ale. She grew bored waiting for her answer and ripped the cup out from his lips. "You drink and splurge on my girls, I get my stories." She reminded him.

"It's nothing really, not really a smart thinker." He said. Luthor jumped in slamming his hand against the table, "Now that's something we can all agree on." She smiled pulling on his gold cloak, she wanted her whispers.

"I just followed the rest of them probably no home to go to after that squabble over the Bay." He told them. She rolled her eyes at the simple answers he gave her. "What squabble would make you leave your home to come to this sewer?"

He chuckled at her. "Who wouldn't? Everybody west of Shipbreaker's Bay have been riding out of the Stormlands. Gods know what will happen when Daemon Targaryen comes back for us." Luthor coughed up his wine when they heard him.

"Say that again, will you?" She asked, Robert nodded with a vague look to them. "He's Daemon Targaryen." He said. "After what happened at Storm's End, he's probably on his way to burn us all-"

"What happened on the Bay?" Luthor demanded. Robert sighed "Do I have to say it again? The two princes at Storm's End." She sighed shaking her head.

"It was just a betrothal meeting. One of the King's brothers was sent to get the Baratheon army." She heard it from one guards in the Red Keep who had too much wine in his belly. Beside her, Luthor had sat up in his chair for once, waiting for a clear answer.

"Aye. Aemond One Eye went to Storm's End, but the princess had sent her own son in for the Baratheon's loyalty. The Velaryon boy fought with One Eye over Shipbreaker's bay atop their dragons, the big one, since the conquerer's time. He ripped the boy and his dragon into pieces over the water.. That was Daemon Targaryen's son."

They paused, Mysaria pressed her fingers to her temples as Luthor had thrown his chalice against the wall. "Leave. Now." Largent spoke as he cracked his knuckles with a drained look in his eye.

The two of them sat beside on another as Robert had gone off with Cassella. "You said it was Aemond-"

"And I did believe it was only him, how was I supposed to-" She explained. He sighed throwing his cloak on the chair, pacing in the common room. Mysaria raised her hand up for the band in the back to play louder as Luthor paced back and forth.

"I rely on you alone to help me keep this people, this city afloat, hell knows how many monarchs we'll have by the end of this feud. Now I have to deal with Daemon's wrath. That boy was right to flee, but he went right into the dragon's lair.. Aemond killed that boy, Aemond and all his greens live in this city."

"How was I supposed to know they would kill the boy?" She couldn't keep track of the bloodlines in the Targaryen line. She had guessed they had been cousins, perhaps nephew and uncle.

"We can't be sure which son it was." Mysaria remembered a few boys from the princess' first marriage had given her mud haired pups. "It won't matter which, he's Daemon's whether he wanted to be or not."

He gave one last sip of his wine, before pacing again. "I should be doubling the watch over the gates, lookouts for that bloody Caraxes probably on our way as we speak. Where are my drunken pack of idiots, anyway?" Mysaria had stretched her neck around to the room looking for a sight of gold.

Baelon had charged through the door with the same stupid smile as always. His face red flushed and out of breath as he looked around. He practically skipped when he ran to join their table again. "Luthor… Misery.." His eyes glimmered with the shade of seafoam blue glistening.

"Rickard told me to tell you.." He looked beside towards Mysaria, and leaned closer to Luthor. "Tell Rickard I am not his dog to whistle up when he likes. If it's so valuable, he can get off his lazy arse-" Baelon sighed and stopped him from saying more, and pulled him to a close.

Mysaria could see the whites of his eyes stretch and look back at the book like he was a simpleton. All the Waters boy could do was nod as he grasped Luthor's shoulder. She could see the nervous look as he wiped the wine from his beard, ignoring the roaring voices in the halls.

Without a word he marched like a soldier boy once more out the doors of her common room, Baelon had raised his hands to the band to raise the blasting sound of drums. He wailed the verse of the silly Westerosi song she has heard once or twice.

"FROM THERE TO HERE, FROM HERE TO THERE, ALL BLACK AND BROWN AND COVERED WITH HAIR. HE SMELLED THAT GIRL OF SUMMER AIR, THE BEAR THE BEAR AND THE MAIDEN FAIR!"

She could read the boy like a book, the show he put on for her customers. He pulled a bloody faced Marei and twirled her in the center of the hall as he sang on, always looking back at the door, waiting.

Mysaria sighed and grew bored as she strode across to reach the door, when Luthor had already came back. The same ugly face as Baelon had when he returned. He tugged at her arm as he pushed her hair back from her ears.

"That old wine cellar beneath here, you still have the keys?" He asked oddly polite with the face of a little child. She raised her eyebrows, shaking the keys jingling her in pockets.

They both slid quietly through the room, to the backroom. The cellar hadn't been used since the last owner had it, too big and not even wine to keep below. It had been no use to her, with the entry being an old hole in the ground with a pentoshi carpet covering the trap door.

Her knees stiffened and cracked when she kicked over the throw rug, and jimmied the keys into the old rusted hole. The latch squeaked when Luthor moved beside her and pulled on it with a feverish haste.

Mysaria could see the light flickering down the steps already lit. The laughter below echoed up as they walked down the steps. Then she heard it once more, that laugh. She didn't need to use her eyes to see who it was. That stupid, sinister laugh.

His laughter.

Their gold cloaks flickered in the light, circled together in her dust filled basement. The back paneling in the wall had been open, where the old tunnel had been. She used it rarely, only for her most righteous and noble customers had snuck through to keep their reputation clean; and out he came.

He aged, she thought to herself. Wrinkles burrowed into his forehead and around his malicious cat eyes. But he still wore the same look. Dark Sister strapped to his hip, the darkened chainmail he had dyed black, the cloak that had one gleamed gold had turned dull and little wisps of fabric torn at the bottom.

And when he pushed the cowl from his head, they caught eyes once again. It had been years since she had crossed paths with Daemon Targaryen.

Neither of them said anything to one another. Mysaria crossed her arms with a bored look as she waited for this little reunion to end. The few gold cloaks that hid in her cellar were busy pulling Daemon in to embrace as they all roared with excitement like little children.

"We found ourselves a visitor at the barracks, Misery." Rickard and Daemon chuckled together as he poured some wine from one of the few caskets she had down there.

"Just needed to speak with a few of these fat, old bastards, always knew I would find them in this fine establishment." Daemon refilled his cup, and slid beside Mysaria to reach a different case. It had been an old white Lyseni wine, which she knew he hated, saying it was too sweet in their younger days. Yet he filled the old chalice to the top, stood tall against an old pillar, staying beside her.

"Come to take back this city of Greens, Daemon? When will be free of the usurper King and his party?" Luthor chimed in. He was too quiet, she thought. Too friendly, the Daemon she knew had been moody with the temper of his own Blood Wyrm, Caraxes. She watched him as he went on with kind words to his "brothers" of the City Watch.

"I've told the rest of them my plans on the way, you're my heir to the watch "Commander Largent", I'll inform you of our own plans when we finish." He gave a tight nod to Luthor as they looked at one another. "For I know black bleeds through you all, for I trust _all_ of you."

He looked again to Mysaria with that stupid grin, once more. She thought of tossing the wine in his face, if he didn't turn his eyes away from her soon. "The time will come when my wife, the _true_ queen returns to take back our city. I've just come to tell you. You'll know it when you see it."

As Luthor sipped, he and Daemon caught a glance at one another. The rest of them didn't notice, but she took note to it. Daemon gave a quick nod to him, talking without saying it aloud.

"Say the word, and the city will come tumbling down on our order." Rickard promised him, she doubted he could do anything except weigh them down like an anchor. Daemon rose grasping his cloak.

"I'm grateful for your prowess, brother, but that won't be needed. In fact, I need you to do the opposite. Live your lives as though I never existed. Serve these traitors till their dying breath, show them utter devotion.. Until I tell you, and you will know when."

The few he selected to remain in the cellars had looked at one another. Daemon could see their uneasy eyes as they nodded their heads unsure. "What we have planned on this night, will change lines of succession back on the right path, and I could only trust you men here with me."

Mysaria scuffed as they looked on satisfied with themselves, being _men_ ; the most useless waste of air in the world. She questioned whatever Gods gave them any power to look down on everyone else who wasn't them.

"Tonight we join together, as brothers." From his side, he pulled a dagger out into his hands. "A blood pact, binding us together unto death. As it always should have been." Daemon drew the blade across his palm, breaking the skin unleashing the red pool that lied underneath.

As they passed the knife on to each other, each man clasping hands together swearing their oaths. Daemon went around to each of them to an embrace, making them all feel special, each and every one of them.

"Go now, before others begin to ask. Live your lives, but remember.." He gave a wave of his bloody palm from the little show he gave with the dagger. As they all went on with their farewell, he showed one last glimpse of warmth.

The thuds and taps of their boots rang up the stairs, with one standing back lastly. Luthor shook his hand, Daemon dropping the warm smile he wore in front of the others, with a sinister look. As Luthor and his long legs climbed back up to the cellar, they both stood across from one another once more.

He gave one last hopeful and warm smile to them, until the slam and creak of the hatch close shut. Then the facade ended, the mask came off, and their he stood. She hadn't seen the real him in years.

"Do you think they believed that old tale?" He asked gagging at the taste of the Lyseni white and tossing it aside. She shrugged her arms with a dull expression.

"Perhaps. I didn't believe a word of it, though." She told him. He chuckled as he smeared the blood stains off his palm.

"Well you are leagues ahead of them intellectually, none of them are quite like you, Misery." He gave a burning smile, that could leave a city in flames. She rolled her eyes at him once again.

"What is it you want, Daemon?" She asked truly. Of all the times he had come and gone in her life, now was not the time. If he was going to start a war, leave her out of it, this time.

He strolled around the cellar dragging his nails against the walls. "What, I can't just pay a visit to an old friend." She raised her eyes to him with a chuckle in disbelief. "And where are these so called friends? I don't see any here."

He stepped closer to her with a smirk across his face. "Why, you of course. Friends… Who occasionally dabble in carnal lust in a boarded bedchamber, but-" She shut him up right away before he would say anything else.

"Is that all you think of, you perverted deviant? I thought that would go away with age, but you still reek of it.." She scrunched her nose to the actual stench that had seeped into his clothes. "That and horse piss, why do you smell like a stable hand?" She pushed him away to safe herself from his scent.

His teeth snarled like a dog as her insults poked at him, she couldn't help but smile at his displeasure. "Because my brother's spawn is trying to start a war, and are calling me and mine traitors, and they would love nothing more than to have my head on a spike after Harrenhal."

She did hear rumors on Cobbler's Square about a castle being taken for the blacks. Mysaria sighed. "Yet that doesn't explain why you look like a commoner, and smell like one as well."

"WHY IF YOU LET ME FINISH-" He turned black with rage in his face fuming through his eyes, she leaned closer to let out the laughter watching his tantrum. With a quick second, Daemon calmed himself, shaking his head grinning. "Why you.. You will be the death of me, one day, Misery."

"And I am counting the days.." He turned back to her with his hands crossed, the smile had faded with sadness weighing him down. "I've come for a favor." He murmured.

"Go find someone who cares, I've got plenty of girls upstairs who can help you with your _favor_." He rolled his eyes, melancholic still. "Not that. A debt needs to be paid, and I need you to help me with it."

Mysaria already knew where this was heading. "If this debt is about that dead prince in the Stormlands, find someone else. Go ask your loyal brothers for help, make use of that little blood oath."

"That dead prince would be my stepson, and I mean to have my vengeance. I promised his mother he'd be avenged, and I plan on it. They spill those with my blood I mean to do the same and just simply that. A son for a son."

She sighed and tossed her cup aside, pacing with thought blistering her mind. "Your 'brothers' are upstairs go fetch them and get your vengeance." He scuffed at the idea.

"You think I trust any of those drunks with this? Rickard is a gluttonous cow who will say any gossip for a whore to spread her legs for him. Luthor.. Luthor is loyal, but he's a simpleton and has the bitch Alicent and her father crawling on him for any sign of disloyalty to Aegon. You are one person in this shit filled city that I know will not betray me."

She bit her lip, shaking her head. Mysaria wouldn't be given the blame for Daemon's mess. She would hang on one of the city gates within the fortnight. "Find another." She finally said, as Daemon pulled wrist back.

"I have valued you for longer than you know, Misery. Known you since we were young and I was one of those fools upstairs and you twirling topless waiting for my coin. You owe my everything, this pillow house, all the gold dragons I gave you for your 'services.' Which were never worth much, compared to what you charged."

She cackled as we went on with the charade, ripping his hand off her. "Yet you always came back for more. And I owe no debts to you for this house, as I recall you sliced my predecessor's fingers off and an infection caught up with him, perhaps I should tell others that old tale."

"Those fingers were for him slapping your ungrateful face, but that infection would have passed if not for a Lyseni whore's special brews.." He snapped at her as he flipped caskets throughout the cellar. "Where are they, your Tears of Lys, how about a sip of Sweetsleep?!"

She threw her chalice, whipping it off the back of his head. Mysaria giggled like a child once more to here the thud off his skull. "I could burn this whole piss stained alley in an instant with you warm in your bed sleeping."

"Last I was told, horses can't do much for pyromaniacs like yourself. Caraxes is leagues away, and I don't fear death, death fears me." She spit at his boots before going on. "Don't try to assume I owe you anything, for all the things I've seen you do, you don't get to go digging up my past."

"I can do whatever I want, I am the Prince of the City, and you.. You are Misery the White Worm, and if I wanted to I could have turned on you over all the years of you and I."

"You could have, but you're not the Prince anymore. Viserys is dead and Aegon is King, and you.. You are just a your niece's whore-consort." She smiled as she said the words that had him clenching his fists. "Go find your vengeance in another whorehouse, you know the way out. All rats do."

Mysaria lifted her skirt as she climbed back up the stairs, he always had to have the last word. "And what if it had been your son? Our child?" Before she lifted the hatch upstairs, she turned back full of rage.

The slap was like the crack of a whip, her hand tingled as it bounced off his face. Her nails had dug slightly into his skin where it left a mark, yet he didn't even flinch. "You do not get to speak of that."

That is not your story to tell." She warned him. "How do you think I feel, how do you think Rhaenyra feels? No matter our fights, the Lucerys did nothing. And they killed him, they killed him I want nothing more than what is rightly mine. Justice."

She flipped caskets over screaming, kicking the old barrels of wood to free the fires inside her. He stood back waiting for her to finish, how she wanted to pluck out his stupid ignorant eyes if he didn't turn away.

"You don't get to play the victim whenever you bring that up. You are the reason-" Daemon always managed to interrupt her while she spoke. "I know I am, and I have never denied it otherwise. I'm asking you, as a moth-"

"Don't even finish that word. I'm not one of.. those people. They have children, I don't. That's the end of that nonsense." He threw his hands in the air pacing again. "Well then fine, you are Mysaria, my one go-between who I trust utterly to bring me my vengeance."

She sighed, he always knew which lie could pull it off. "You're asking me to go take a stroll up to the Red Keep, walk in and find a boy to replace yours?"

"Aegon's got two, I only ask for one." He swore. "And no blood will be on our hands, just find me a suitable bum in Fleabottom to get the job done."

"You have known every whisper that runs through the streets, and bedchambers since you got off the ship from Lys. One will come running once they learn of my reward." He tossed a substantial leather cloth into her hands. When she shook it, she could hear the golden dragons jingle.

"I know a few that may meet your.. standards. An old sergeant in the Watch, lost his gold cloak though. Can't hold his wine and has a bad temper for whores when he's drunk. The other, is an odd creature, an old rat catcher from the Red Keep. Says he knows his way inside and out through some old tunnels."

Daemon raised his eyebrows and nodded. "Yes, Maegor had them built. Viserys and I used to run down them as children." If she was seeing right, he was almost amused by the little memory. Mysaria had always recalled, he had always spoken coldly of him after naming his daughter heir.

But soon he jumped out of his recollection and went on for his 'justice.' "Yes well, find them, both even. Tell them I'll pay double their reward each, once I get my proof that it's done." She sighed and shook her head, she always got dragged back into these.

Mysaria looked around the wine cellar, the broken glasses, crushed barrels, ale soaking into the ground. The same old screaming matches with the same man, once again. "I missed this." He muttered under his breath.

She turned back to him looking as if he had three heads, almost gagging on the idea of them. "Which part exactly? The half drunken threats or plots of murder?" He laughed at her.

"Why all of it and more. Just the thought of us reunited, the Gods are trembling as we speak. Even the idea of 'Daemon and Mysaria together again,' the people quiver in fear." He had a madness look in him, rambling on.

"You're a dreamer." She told him. His stories were children's tales. But then he turned back at her with a smile that could kill if he tried.

"Aye then, I'm a dreamer. And there is always one who is there." Mysaria seemed to lost track of how many eye rolls she had during this meeting, another came as he grazed the side of her arm. "A certain Lyseni, her skin pale as milk, did I ever tell you how much I enjoyed your complexion? A rare gem to be scene on one, except you."

She grabbed his arm and slapped it away. "If you plan on keeping that hand, you would best keep it away from me." He sighed as he pulled the stinking cowl as he through it back over his head.

"Clothed or not, you never disappoint with our little homecomings. I am just a King, Protector of the Realm, and you beside me as my pale Queen.

"Of hell." She corrected him, but it only drove him further with euphoria. "Seems fitting." He said. "After all, once you find some suitable men to return the debt, we'll be making deals with the Stranger."

"You'll get what you paid for." She told him, laying the gold dragons beside her. Mysaria walked back towards Daemon pushing him back to the same hole he came out of. Instead of leaving as she wanted him to, he took hold of her hand.

"Remember what I'm asking of you, and them. An eye for an eye, a son for a son. Nothing less, nothing more. All I ask is for what is mine by right." She nodded back, pulling the pannel out again, leading to the old burrows under the city.

"Fine, fine. You'll get what you wanted. Blood will spill." She promised him. "I'll be at Harrenhal, tell your men that's where they'll find me to come looking for pay. The rest is yours, Misery." He gave a quick grin, which she found nauseating.

"A raven could've made all of this easier, and saved me the trouble!" She cursed him in her High Valyrian tongue looking at the mess he had left her.

Before he left, Daemon Targaryen gave a shrug of his shoulders and smiled. "Ravens can be intercepted, and what can I say, I just missed the sight of your face, Misery."


End file.
